


Fantasy and Reality

by Abbie



Series: Sleeping With A Friend [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy has an ill-timed realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy and Reality

He missed her.

Maybe it was sappy or clingy or stupid, but it’d been almost a week since Tommy had even seen Felicity. She wouldn’t even be home from Vegas til Monday, and it was only Friday night.

Normally, Tommy would just hit the club circuit, party hard and drink and get wilder than was really Felicity’s style. But he just… wasn’t feeling it. Too many people, too much noise, and his day had been shit and he was in a correspondingly shitty mood.

He wanted to curl up on Felicity’s couch and watch Pacific Rim with her and start a playful argument about whether he was more drift compatible with her or Oliver, just to watch her get mad. She just got so adorably flustered when he needled her about her hilariously onesided rivalry with Oliver, cheeks all red and lips pouting.

It made him want to kiss her.

Of course,  _lots_  of things made Tommy want to kiss her. Too many, maybe. He was getting almost embarrassingly addicted to her mouth.

Rolling onto his side on his bed, paying no attention at all to the TV movie on the flatscreen, Tommy snorted at himself. It had been six days since he’d seen Felicity, eight since he’d last kissed her, and he was practically hermitting himself away in withdrawal.

But god, thinking about how long it had been since the last time they’d kissed— _really_  kissed, not just that fond peck on the lips before she’d left for the airport—had him jonesing for her tongue in his mouth, the softness of her body beneath him, her thighs cradling his hips…

Licking his lips, Tommy shut his eyes and guiltily indulged in imagining the sounds Felicity made—breathless and needy in his ear, her voice a hum under the skin of her throat where he sucked—imagined her hands under his shirt, fingernails biting into his back as he rolled his hips against her center.

Tommy swallowed hard, eyes opening as he began to harden in his sweatpants. He shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be, but didn’t want to stop.

He couldn’t even pretend this was the first time he’d fantasized about Felicity. Hell, he’d never, ever tell her, but he’d gotten a little buzzed or high and masturbated to fantasies of her before they’d ever kissed, more than once. He’d felt terrible about it after each time, but it was different now that there were… benefits to their friendship.

It seemed weirdly wrong to cross the line from making out with Felicity to having sex with Felicity, in his head before it happened in real life.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, pushing up to sitting position against the headboard and running a hand over his hair.

 _Before_. Not if.

Well, there it was. He couldn’t pretend anymore that he didn’t  _want_  to eventually be having sex with Felicity, that he didn’t want their with-benefits friendship to at some point move beyond the heavy petting arrangement they currently enjoyed.

He sighed. “Terrible timing as usual, Merlyn.”

Felicity’d had a date last week. A first date, sure, but if she went out with this guy again and still liked him, according to the guidelines she and Tommy had made up, the “benefits” of their friendship would not only  _not_  be advancing, but go on moratorium for however long she was going out with this guy.

So of course  _now_  was the time for Tommy to have an epiphany that he couldn’t get enough of Felicity and wanted something a little… more.

Groaning, Tommy smacked the back of his head against the wall twice. Glaring up at the ceiling, mood not even  _remotely_  improved, he muttered darkly, “I am  _fucked_.”


End file.
